


Challenge accepted

by EnlacingLines



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27268468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlacingLines/pseuds/EnlacingLines
Summary: “This guy declared me his rival, and I think he wants to battle to the death. He literally threw a glove at me,” Akira says, finding said glove and letting it flop down in the middle of the table.There’s silence.“That is an invigorating end to your philosophy class,” Yusuke comments, and Haru starts giggling, while Ann reaches for the glove.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 24
Kudos: 322





	Challenge accepted

**Author's Note:**

> Can't stop won't stop with the fluff/humor shuake. I just want them happy. 
> 
> Thank you to Valania for betaing this, and giving me your expertise in college AUs <3
> 
> Enjoy!

The blast of warmth as he opens the door of the café rouses Akira from his thoughts. He sighs in relief, the noise and scent of the campus coffee shop welcoming and familiar, as well as the sight of the people sitting near the back. 

He makes his way through, Haru the first to notice, looking up from her laptop and waving, which captures the rest of the group’s attention. 

“Hey, there you are. How was class?” Makoto asks, as Yusuke hands over a still steaming coffee. Akira gulps half of it in one go, and Makoto grimaces. 

“That bad?” she says, and he sits down on the remaining chair. 

He exhales. It’s been…an odd morning. 

“Well, there’s a guy in my philosophy class—” 

“Oh nooo…” Ann interrupts with a groan, and he looks at her. She rolls her eyes. 

“What good story involves a guy from a philosophy class?” she says, to which he takes offense at, seeing as he too is a guy in a philosophy class.

“Since when do you take philosophy?” Ryuji says, and Akira shrugs. 

“Since I…was somewhat conflicted on what to take for my free module,” he admits, and Makoto looks like she’s about to start a lecture about taking university seriously, but it was always going to be a throw away class. As long as he passes, it’s fine. 

“I’m dreading whatever this is. Do I have time to order another coffee?” Ann mutters, and he gives her another look before delving into his pocket. 

“This guy declared me his rival, and I think he wants to battle to the death. He literally threw a glove at me,” Akira says, finding said glove and letting it flop down in the middle of the table. 

There’s silence. 

“That is an invigorating end to your philosophy class,” Yusuke comments, and Haru starts giggling, while Ann reaches for the glove. 

“Who does that, that’s so weird and…wait this is Bottega Veneta,” she practically yells, snatching it up and peering at it almost reverently. 

Akira nods, at…well he’s not sure which one of them and takes another swig of his coffee. 

“Who is this person? They can’t go round threatening classmates,” Makoto says, and Haru seems to be unable to stop laughing, now covering her mouth with a hand to try and prevent giggles from escaping. 

“I mean as threats go, throwing one of your nice gloves at someone is pretty lame,” Ryuji says, giving Ann a reproachful look as she starts turning over the end to look at the lining. 

“Yeah, I’m not that worried,” Akira says, for as much as glove guy was overly dramatic, he can’t say he particularly feels in danger. 

Next to him, Ann hums, looking between him and the glove in a way that’s a little more concerning than the whole incident. Thankfully though, Haru has stopped laughing and manages to speak. 

“Do you know him though? He must have reasons for acting this way?” she says, and then holds her hand out for the glove, which Ann hands over. 

“Oh yes, it is, good eye,” she murmurs, and Ann nods rapidly. 

Ignoring whatever fashion discussion is going on, he thinks about Haru’s question. 

“Hmm, yeah he’s always early and he talks a lot,” he says, picturing the guy in his mind and avoiding revealing too much. Thankfully, he’s very good at both of these feats. 

“Don’t you know his name?” Makoto asks, who has frankly judged him too harshly over this short conversation, seeing as he was the one accosted by a glove. 

“I wasn’t in the first class, so I missed intros. Which is why the whole glove rival thing doesn’t make sense!” Akira says, and Makoto shakes her head. 

“Fine, I suppose. I need another drink,” she says, getting up. 

“Me too. You want one, dude?” Ryuji says, and Akira nods, having finished his extremely quickly. 

Yusuke follows, and Ryuji sighs, wrapping an arm around him and dragging him towards the food, when Ann clears her throat. Haru too slides closer, returning the glove, which Akira puts back in his pocket. 

“Sooo,” Ann says. 

“Sooo,” he says right back, and she grins. 

“Exactly how hot is this guy? Totally not buying you don’t know him, I’m gonna bet you stare at him in class,” she says, and Haru nods, the two of them seeing right through, and Akira grimaces. 

“Stupidly hot, he put his hair up one time. I don’t remember the class at all. But hey we’re rivals, I think I’m into it,” he says and Ann shakes her head. 

“You should give him his glove back though, it’s really cold out,” Haru says, concerned for someone she doesn’t know which is incredibly like her. 

“And they cost about 53,000 yen,” Ann adds. 

His mouth falls open. Akira’s not sure how he gained an extremely hot rival, confessed a crush, and is in possession of one glove which is worth more money than anything he has ever owned, including his computer. 

Today is definitely an odd day.

* * *

“That’s a weird way to ask someone out,” Futaba says, actually turning to face him which means it’s serious business. 

“I don’t think he’s doing that,” Akira says, sprawling out on her bed. 

“Well, he wants to take you out in one way or another,” she says, and he throws a plushie at her for the terrible pun. 

“Hey! I’m guessing you want something if you’re spilling your frankly pathetic love life at me, so I’d lay off the brutal attacks,” she says and he turns towards her with his best puppy dog eyes. To which of course, she’s the only person immune. 

He sighs. “I need his name,” he says, staring determinedly at the ceiling. 

He barely has to wait two seconds before she starts cackling. He’s prepared for this but it still grates on his nerves. 

“Fine, let it out,” he mutters and she laughs harder, almost tipping off her chair. 

“Wow, okay, I’m good. Seriously, Akira this is bad even for you. Sure you wanna date this dude? Whose name you do not know, but who wants to battle you at dawn,” she says, barely able to hold it together. 

“I don’t want to date him, I just want to know his name,” Akira grumbles, despite the fact that the idea of dating mysteriously dramatic philosophy guy makes his stomach fizz, a smile pull at his lips, despite their interactions being hardly positive, there’s just something about him Akira thinks is interesting. 

He noticed it from the first class. Not just how he looked but the way he spoke; full of knowledge, with a tone of performance as if everything he says is rehearsed, yet the few times Akira had managed to challenge his analysis, there was something genuine about the faltering in his expression, quickly covered by frustration, even anger at times. 

So sure, Akira doesn’t know his name, had in fact just named him ‘hot ponytail guy’ in his head, but does know who he is. They hadn’t ever spoken except to clash on ideals in class until that day, and honestly Akira can’t remember if there’s something in particular which might have triggered the sudden shift, but whatever it was, it’s caused an opening. And Akira is gearing up to take advantage of it. 

“Goro Akechi.” 

Akira turns over, then stumbles to Futaba, grabbing the back of her chair and leaning over to rest his chin on her head. She mutters under her breath but there, on the screen, is a campus card photo of hot ponytail philosophy guy. 

“Way to go,” he says, stepping back and grinning. “But how did you find him so quickly?” 

“Because I’m a genius. And because it’s stupidly easy to hack into school files, and you're stupidly predictable,” she says, sweeping a hand up at the picture. 

“You’ve got a type. And he’s wayyy too pretty for you,” she adds, swinging around in her chair. 

“What are you talking about, I’m adorable and charming,” he says. 

“Urg, gross. Get out of my room and take your crush with you,” she says, and Akira laughs standing up. 

“You feel like coming to campus tomorrow?” he asks. 

Futaba looks up, sudden nerves in her eyes. She inhales and Akira waits, gives her a moment to see where she lands, before she nods once. 

“Maybe...we can get coffee?” she says softly. 

“Sure. My classes are done at three. You want curry for dinner?” he asks. 

“Err, why are you even asking?” she says, and Akira rolls his eyes, before leaving his room and into the small kitchen in their shared apartment. He hears her close the door behind him, but doesn’t mind, knows she needs her space if she’s building up to going out tomorrow. 

Plus, it gives him more time to think of his plan of actions. 

“Goro Akechi,” he mutters to himself as he spreads out the ingredients, tasting the way the name fits, rings into the silence, filters round his mind. 

Akira decides he most definitely likes it. 

* * *

Strangely, despite declaring Akira his rival, Akechi completely ignores him when he walks into class three days later. It’s utterly freezing outside, and he spares a look at Akechi’s hands, but cannot see them behind the very nice looking laptop he’s already set up. 

Akira really does need to give back the glove. The dramatic gesture is rather appreciated if he’s honest. He’s not used to garnering much attention, and knows he can’t keep gripping onto any slight hint of interest when he’s given it. This isn’t even interest it’s...well, Akira isn’t even sure what it is at all. 

He’s not used to having friends, not used to having many people in his life who have any type of reaction to him except indifference. So he usually has to hold himself back from just falling too hard and fast into whatever blooming connection occurs; it has burned him painfully before. 

But Akechi needs his glove back, it’s January and literally snowing. And Akira needs to stop fixating on this and at least try and smooth things over so maybe, if there is any lingering potential for anything other than whatever is happening in their collective heads, he can find that out gradually. 

Akechi though seems in a hurry today, for he’s practically running out of class before Akira even has his coat on. Which means Akira has to actually run to catch up, reaching him just before gets to the exit. 

“Akechi, hang on!” he calls, and Akechi stops, whole frame tense as he turns to meet him. 

“Did you want something, Kurusu?” he asks, a terribly fake smile on his face that still for some reason, is so damn hot. 

_ He knows my name _ , Akira thinks, and then is so glad no one else can hear his thoughts because that is the most pathetic crush thought he’s ever had, and he’s almost twenty years old. 

“Yeah, uh listen, I really think you should have this back,” he says, approaching and holding out the glove carefully. 

Akechi frowns, fake smile falling instantly. “Are you going back on our deal?” he says, and Akira’s not sure he ever really made a deal, but he’s shaking his head anyway. 

“No, err we can still be…rivals sure, but it’s snowing. Don’t you want your glove?” he says, gesturing to where the flurries are building outside. 

To his amazement, Akechi’s mouth falls open, which Akira isn’t sure actually happened to people and it might be the cutest thing he’s seen this guy do. Until he, as usual, straps back on this façade of perfection and shakes his head. 

“I’m perfectly fine, and that glove is yours to keep as a sign of our rivalry. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says, not waiting to be excused. He leaves the building, making Akira once again chase after him. 

“I’m seriously not going to forget we’re rivals, I  _ am _ going to be worried I’ve accidentally given you frostbite though,” he calls, catching up as Akechi makes it down the stairs. 

“Kurusu, do you even know how—” 

“Akechi?” 

Akira turns as Akechi does, a familiar voice calling his name. Haru and Makoto stand on the other side of the stairs, both staring between the two of them. Except the looks on their faces are not ones he’s used to from either; guarded, hesitant, even a little confrontational. 

“H-how are you?” Haru suddenly says, and next to him Akechi lets out a sound like a hiss, just about in his hearing. 

“Fine, thank you. I have class, I must go,” he says, then once again leaves them all, walking in the opposite direction, which Akira knows leads to the student centre, and not near any classrooms. 

He looks back and Makoto huffs, frustrated while Haru simply looks sad. He sighs. 

“You all know each other?” he asks. 

“Ah, yes, you could say that. I didn’t know you were friends though,” Makoto says. 

Akira laughs, stretching to rub the back of his head , and instead of answering waves the glove still in his other hand. 

Haru and Makoto exchange glances. “We should probably talk,” Makoto says. 

Akira nods, not sure he’s going to like this, but follows them all the same back to Makoto’s car, as she offers to host. Akira isn’t going to argue, anywhere warm is good, and he’s spent way too much this month so he’s happy to not stay out. 

It’s not a long drive, but it’s quiet, tension clear, even if it’s not between the three of them. Akira’s head spins a little, unsure what Akechi has to do with this. He notices Makoto cover Haru’s hand once during the trip as they drive and he grimaces. Nothing good, he’s sure, will come of this. 

Makoto’s apartment is that strange in between of being practical and a student’s home. She cooks almost as much as he does, but she also has a lot of bike magazines and a few posters, framed to make them seem somewhat more adult than he and Futaba’s collage of random photos, art and posters they’ve used instead of wallpaper. 

Haru starts making tea without asking, and Akira smiles at the ease of which they fit around each other. They’re a sweet couple, and soon enough they’re sitting around Makoto’s table with tea and small cakes he’s pretty sure Makoto didn’t know she had. 

“It all happened two years ago. It was the last year of high school and my father’s business practices were first called into question. And we all know how that ended,” she says, as Makoto grips her hand. 

Akira winces. He knows about the court case, of her father’s public fall from grace and the subsequent heart attack. He’s known Haru for just over a year now, and despite the time going by, he can still see the pain on occasion as it passed through. 

“And you know about the Masayoshi Shido case, of course,” Makoto says, taking up the conversations. 

Akira nods; hard not to have heard about the man poised for political greatness who was exposed as heading up one of the biggest corruption cases in the country. Even in Akira’s dead end hometown, the news spread for weeks on end. 

“Well, my father was working for Shido, which was mentioned, although as he died before the case was released, it wasn’t made a huge part of. But, it did turn out that Akechi was working for Shido too, or so that was what we thought at the time,” Haru says. 

Akira blinks. “Working for him? Weren’t you all what, seventeen?” he says. 

Haru sighs. “Friends too, or at least friendly. I don’t know the details, but originally Mako-chan’s sister said he’d been accused of hiding evidence when he interned at the public prosecutor's office, and he dropped out of school as soon as Shido was arrested,” she says, grimaces. 

Makoto takes a sip of her tea. “Sis never told me the full details, but about a year ago she told me that looking at testimonies, Akechi wasn’t going to be charged. I get the feeling he was being coerced or threatened which makes sense. As you said, we were kids. But, I guess it still stung. We were all friends and it felt as if he used us,” she says. 

“I believed he just befriended us to get private information, which he fed to Shido. But, I’d like to hope at least we were friends in the end. Shido was a terrible man, it doesn’t surprise me he would use a teenager to pursue his aims,” Haru says, anger clear in her tone, and she inhales deeply to steady herself. 

“So, we thought you should know. If you’re friends, just that there’s some tension,” Makoto says. 

“I can’t say I forgive him for delving into my life like that, but I know there must have been a lot of other things going on at the time. I really do hope he is doing well. I guess he must have repeated a year of high school, if he’s in your classes,” Haru says, smiling at Akira. 

“Guess so,” Akira replies, taking a bite of cake, not really sure what to do with that information. 

It explains the issue between them; a lot of history, pain and effects that are long lasting on all sides. Clearly, if Akechi took a year out of school and almost got charged for involvement in a criminal case where the perpetrator will probably never see the outside world again, there’s a lot going on there. And not something you’d want a virtual stranger to necessarily know. So he can understand the abrupt departure and tension today. 

“Akira, do you want to stay for dinner? Not that I have been shopping lately,” Makoto mutters, and Haru claps her hands. 

“Oh let’s order in, it’s too cold to go out again. I’ll ask if anyone else wants to join us,” she says, pulling out her phone. 

“Good plan, I’m just going to change. Help yourself to more tea if you like,” she says, kissing Haru on the top of her head as she walks past. 

“Aww,” Akira says before he can stop himself, and Haru looks up from her phone. 

“So you like Akechi? He  _ is _ the type of person to flirt by challenging someone,” she says, and Akira knows he should have stayed silent. 

“I tried to give him the glove back and he wouldn’t take it. He’s going to freeze,” Akira says, and Haru laughs, taking the last cake. 

“Keep trying, he was always stubborn and particular. Or perhaps try a different method of returning it,” she says, and Akira files that small piece of insight away. 

As apparently he’s collecting a litany of Akechi based facts. 

He’s a philosophy major, and a member of the climbing club according to Futaba which is entirely unexpected and short circuits his brain because Akira may have a thing for biceps. It does not help his concentration during the next class, but Akechi is wearing what looks like at least three layers and doesn’t take off his coat. Akira really wants to give him back his glove, he clearly feels the cold. 

Their first philosophy test results are posted the week after his conversation with Makoto and Haru, to which he notices with some surprise, he’s scored in the top five. Akechi’s name is below his, with one mark different. Unable to help himself, Akira snaps a photo, only to hear an aggravated sound behind him. 

He turns and Akechi is there, once again shivering in a slightly damp scarf, hair still with half melted snow covering the strands. Akira wants to brush it clear and possibly wrap him in a blanket—he’s practically shaking. 

“Did you check your grades?” Akira asks innocently, and Akechi’s glare deepens. 

“Yes, thank you Kurusu. Amazing you manage to do so well while hardly taking notes,” he says, and Akira shrugs. 

“Looks like I remember things just fine, thanks for worrying though,” he says, and Akechi storms into class, leaving Akira far too delighted by how this rivalry is turning out. 

Akira ends up sitting in front of Akechi in their lecture and can feel him staring at the back of his head. At least, he’s pretty sure, he doesn’t really want to turn around and draw attention to it. 

At the end of class though, he does turn, immediately catching his gaze. Akechi startles, hair fluttering and Akira smirks, lifting a hand to wave. In response, Akechi glares, then stalks out of the room. Akira laughs to himself, catching a few odd looks, and by the time he exits the building, there’s no sign of Akechi. 

But, staring and threats aside, Akira knows he needs to do something or things won’t progress. Not that he’s sure what they should progress to, he’ll figure out that plan when things move slightly from sniping at each other in class to perhaps something more civil. 

Mostly, he’s just worried Akechi will get pneumonia before then. Akira’s never known a person whose so cold blooded, even Ann, who's always been a terror at stealing the nearest person’s layers at the slightest chill, seems to be doing better than him in winter. It rears up that protective instinct in him and Akira has to once again, remind himself not to fall face first. Especially considering how their interactions are currently hardly favourable. 

So he breezes into class slightly early, counting on Akechi being even earlier, and grins when he’s correct. He marches over and without a word, passes over the takeaway coffee cup in his hand. Akechi startles and looks up, then back at the coffee. 

“Kurusu, what are you doing?” he asks. 

“Told you, I’m not being responsible for your frostbite. If you won’t take your glove back, at least hold something warm,” he says, then doesn’t wait for Akechi’s reply, leaving and going to his usual seat across the room. 

He’s timed it perfectly so that class starts once he’s sat down, and Akechi has no time to do anything other than gape at him. Akira manages to catch the moment he wraps his hands around the cup, and later when he drinks from it. He’d made a complete guess with the order, so takes a small amount of satisfaction when he sees him drink. 

Class ends, and Akechi gives him a nod, before leaving. It’s not much, but Akira will take it. 

* * *

“I can’t believe I had to come to campus over a technical issue. How are these professors so incompetent?” Futaba mutters, clutching her laptop like a lifeline as they make their way towards the art studio

“It does seem rather ridiculous, but thank you for accompanying me to get more brushes,” Yusuke adds, and Akira wonders exactly what they’re going to end up doing as Yusuke never manages to stick to the plans when it comes to art supplies. 

Sure enough, Akira finds himself sitting inside the art studio waiting area with Futaba’s laptop while she tries to persuade him not to spend all his grant money on an extremely expensive canvas. If anyone can do it, it’s her. 

At first, he thinks he’s dreaming when a coffee cup comes into his vision, but then an impatient huff rouses him and he looks up to see Akechi holding out the coffee, looking unhappy about it. 

“Hello?” Akira replies and to his surprise, Goro smiles, just a hint of spark in his eyes and Akira’s mouth runs dry. 

“Are you truly so out of it, Kurusu? I’m giving you coffee,” he says. 

Akira takes it, feeling the warmth seep, knowing this must be fresh. 

“Did you just happen to have one on you to give to me?” he asks, and Goro shakes his head. 

“There’s a café at the end of the building. How did you not know this?” he says. 

Which means he must have seen Akira sitting here and decided to buy him coffee. That creates far too much warmth, bubbling up almost giddily. Because that means something, gives him a thread to hold onto that this is expanding, and he doesn’t have to keep wondering.

“I don’t take art, I’m just waiting for someone. What are you doing here?” he says, truly curious. 

To his joy, Akechi blushes. Just a highlight of flush to his cheeks, looking to the side before clearing his throat, and Akira sits forward in glee. 

“Were you modelling? I mean, clearly you’re hot enough for it—”

“Excuse me?” Akechi interrupts, mouth doing that falling open thing again which Akira might have again thought adorable if he wasn’t so mortified by actually saying those words out loud. 

They both stare at each other, and Akira is not used to losing his cool like this, he’s usually so good at saying the right lines at the right time. He coughs and turns his head, hoping his glasses might hide his expression, willing his brain to string a sentence together, but Akechi gets there first. 

“You’re friends with Okumara and Nijima?” 

Akira blinks, surprised at the somewhat hesitant tone, the way Akechi closes himself off with a hesitant air so different from his usual stature. 

Akira nods slowly. “Yeah. I transferred a month late in my first year, met Haru through the student help centre. She um, actually wondered how you were doing, and hoped you’re well,” he says, a little clumsily. 

Akechi looks genuinely surprised at this, and obviously shaken. Akira has a fierce need to reassure him then; tell him both his old friends care even if the bridge between is somewhat charred right now. To tell him that Akira doesn’t care about pasts, has enough ghosts in his own to make a horror movie, and is more focused on potentials and futures than wasting away in what can’t be changed. 

But of course the universe doesn't let him. And by universe, he means Futaba. 

“Is that the limited edition black feather-ranger keychain?!”

Akira winces, then leans forward in the chair to see around Akechi. 

“Futaba, seriously don’t scream,” he says back, but then frowns as he follows her eyeline to stare at Akechi’s bag, where there is indeed a tiny keychain of what could well be a Featherman character. 

Akechi suddenly flips his bag to the other arm, hiding the chain. He turns back to Akira, that perfectly charming and incredibly fake smile in place once more, their previous moment dissolved. 

“I have to go now, but enjoy your coffee, Kurusu,” he says, waving before walking past Futaba and the newly arrived Yusuke, back towards the cafe and what Akira assumes is the exit. 

“Oh! Oh, that was him, hehe,” Futaba says in a false whisper, jumping over to him. 

“Did you recognise fan merch before a person’s face?” he asks, and she shrugs. 

“My priorities are on track. Did he buy you coffee? Ooh that’s good, Inari, tell him that’s good!” she calls, as Yusuke is still staring in the direction Akechi exited. 

“His facial symmetry is flawless, what a remarkable appearance. Hmm yes, truly remarkable,” Yusuke comments, turning back to them. 

“Inari, you can just say he’s hot. Looks like you have competition, Akira,” she says, nudging him hard in the ribs and he almost drops his coffee. 

“Oh, no I simply think his essence needs to be captured in paint. Is he the person who confessed with a glove? How bold, I like him even more,” Yusuke says. 

“And he likes Featherman, you’ll never do any better. Marry him,” Futaba adds. 

Akira doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or scream. Why is everyone around him like this?

* * *

Akira hates Wednesdays. He has back to back classes starting early, which inevitably means he never wakes in time for breakfast and is starving by the time they finish. Occasionally, he manages to grab a tea before class to get him through, but today is not one of those times. 

He stumbles out of class with a plan to head straight home and eat all the leftover curry, Futaba’s wrath be damned, when he hears a call of his name. 

Akira sighs. His brain isn’t functioning enough to deal with Akechi right now. He turns though, seeing him stride through the wind, scarf double wrapped around his neck and a victorious smile on his face. 

Then without speaking, he shoves his phone in Akira’s face, who had entirely forgotten the latest quiz results were out. This time, Akechi’s name is ahead of his, with a perfect score. 

“Did you see your grades, Kurusu?” he says, and he’s so unbearably pleased with himself it almost pains Akira to think he has fantasies about kissing this guy. 

“I’ve been in class all morning. Congratulations though, I need to study more,” he says, although he’s in third place in the class, a class he doesn’t need to do more than pass. 

“You clearly do,” Akechi agrees, putting his phone away, and Akira notices his hands are almost white with cold. 

This is ridiculous. He needs to move this forward and get those gloves back on Akechi before he loses his fingers. 

“Perhaps you could help with that. Seeing as you’re top of the class,” Akira says, taking a step forward. 

Akechi blinks rapidly, and swallows. Akira can’t deny he enjoys the flustered reaction. 

“You’d want to? After what they’d probably—” he cuts himself off, that withdrawn, almost vulnerable reaction he’d seen in the art block returning. 

“I asked, didn’t I?” Akira says, softly, and what he hopes is positive, considering it’s clearly not time to have whatever conversation they may need to about this. Akechi’s posture changes at his words, spine straighter, a little of that performative edge returning. 

“If you wish for my assistance, I’m happy to provide it. And, well, no time like the present, assuming you’re done with class,” he says. 

Akira is taken aback at the immediate reciprocation, but is not one to back down, never is when it comes to Akechi. 

“Sure, but I’m starving, I was about to go eat,” he says. 

Akechi sighs heavily. “I am sure I can provide you food, the art building cafe does the best coffee on campus, a good place for…studying,” he finishes, the tips of his ears going red, and Akira’s smile grows, caught up in the fantastic spiralling. 

“If you’re buying me lunch, I’ll have to buy you dinner this week. Or I can cook, I’m a great cook,” he adds, as the thought of actually making food for Akechi causes a spinning sensation he can feel himself becoming addicted to. 

“Really? You are?” Akechi says, and for once it’s not full of the usual disbelief, but curiosity, almost hopefulness. 

_ Don’t fall too fast, _ a voice in his head whispers, but Akira has always been powerless to these things. He knows it’s an exercise in futility. 

“You’ll just have to see. Come on though, I need food and—oh my god your hand is freezing, will you please take your glove back?” Akira practically yells, as he has on instinct, reached out to touch Akechi’s hand. 

“No,” Akechi replies, staring straight back at him and Akira groans. 

“Holy shit, your hands must hurt,” he says, taking Akechi’s left hand wrapping it between both his palms as Akira genuinely has never felt skin as cold as this before. Akechi makes a small noise, but doesn’t deny the pain nor pulls away from his hold, so Akira clings on tightly. 

By the time they cross campus to the art building, Akechi’s hand is slightly warming, and gripped tightly in Akira’s as they walk side by side. And he can’t help but wonder if Akechi will let him warm the other while they study as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have ideas of how to make this a series, so I may be posting more instalments, although I can't promise when. 
> 
> For fic updates, and to come yell at shuake with me (please do, I love to yell about them) find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)


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